


American Monsters

by Mrs_Baker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Eldritch, Entities and creatures, F/F, F/M, Forest Spirits, Nephilim, Of unknown origin, Religious Themes, Terato, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, human/ monster shorts, human/monster, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Baker/pseuds/Mrs_Baker
Summary: "Since childhood, I have been faithful to monsters. I have been saved and absolved by them, because monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection, and they allow and embody the possibility of failing," -Guillermo Del ToroA collection of human/monster and monster/monster interactions
Relationships: Nephilim/Human
Kudos: 4





	1. Sign of the times

The smell of burning things was acrid in Adam’s mouth as it choked and smothered his senses. Burning cars and tires and buildings. He wasn’t sure what had exploded but whatever it was had sent him flying, white-hot agony took over his body before he got back to his feet. His ears rang and there was the familiar copper tang of blood in his mouth. His heart seemed to seize at the first howl of the demons, alerted by the noise of the explosion! Fucking Hell. Literally.

At least his backpack had provided some cushion. He was on some street where the asphalt had been obliterated in the first days of the invasion, torn up concrete strewn about with dangerous spikes of rebar sticking out. Adam started to shamble away as the first demon launched itself through the smoke looking for prey. They ran on all fours like dogs but were even quicker and scaly, with vertical slit pupils. And sometimes...just sometimes, they yelled and screamed with stolen voices. 

Everything hurt, even his fucking gums as he fled down an alley, something warm dripping down his forehead. Blood. He heard the hideous click of their nails on the ground as they scented his blood and began to run him down.

 _I’ll never make it, I’ll never make it_ , he thought. Was this really it?

Adam screamed as something heavy slammed into his back, again his backpack saving him from being shredded at first contact. But the clawed human-like hands of the beast pinned his arms down and the putrid, sickly sweet rot of the thing washed over him. A long tongue slithered free of its crocodile-like snout and licked at the blood on his forehead, then down his cheek. He gasped and choked at the acrid stench of its breath.

“Pretty...thing,” a wavering voice said, male and female, halting and gravely and entirely disturbing to Adam’s senses.

The first bite into his shoulder was pure unadulterated agony as serrated teeth sliced his jacket, shirt, and flesh with ease and he heard the rest of the pack laughing with human voices.

He thought he had imagined it at first, that great big noise of velvet wings rustling but he managed to shift his head, just barely and saw massive wings descending upon them. The demon biting him into him tried to run but as Adam weakly shifted onto his side, he saw it. It wasn’t an Angel. They glowed too bright to look at directly, no this was something else. Perhaps nine feet tall standing on avian feet was a Nephilim. The product of Angels and the daughters of man. 

The demon that attacked him lunged at it with split jaws but the Nephilim grabbed it with clawed hands, and pried its jaws apart as though it were nothing! Adam heard the bones or whatever the hell was in the unearthly beast crack and it was ripped in two, spilling black guts, the stench of sulfur, and boiled blood filling the air. He clapped a hand over his bloody shoulder and staggered to his feet, glanced behind him as it fought off the other demons. Good God that was a sight!

His fingers were quickly soaked in blood and he felt warm, torn flesh. _How much damage was there? Would he bleed out there in the dirty alley?_

It punched two demons away with a second set of arms. The wings were massive having to be big enough to support the Nephilim in flight, two sets of shimmering plum hued wings. It was almost a shame to see them damaged by the biting demons.

Adam fell to his knees about five yards away from the melee, the horrible noise of the demons being killed, like metal scraping against metal and women’s screams. The Nephilim were not on humanity’s side. How could they when their own aunts and uncles locked them away for being born? They were giants, beings of rage, and destruction. Or so he had been told. Up until a few months ago, the Nephilim was not part of any church’s beliefs, they weren’t canon. That changed rather quickly did it not?

If Adam were lucky it might just crush his skull in one blow and end it quickly. Still, he struggled up onto one elbow and moved back until his back touched a wall and he leaned against it as it came near. He was tired and it was becoming harder to keep his eyes open.

The Nephilim’s body was long, lean, and sexless, covered in fine pale gray feathers. Adam could have almost mistaken it for one of those sirens in the classical paintings of greek myths. In the center of its chest was a shimmering jewel of shifting purples that glimmered in the light and it seemed to be set directly in the creature’s flesh.

The Nephilim’s head seemed to be of a heavy gold mask with three faces, a female face on the right, a male face on the left, and the one looking at him were that of a lion. There were no eye holes though, merely solid gold that glittered in the weak sun filtering through the clouds. The Nephilim moved closer slowly and tilted its head at him. They watched each other for a moment.

“Please,” he whimpered, “Please don’t kill me.” How many people had he seen die? How many people had begged for their lives from monsters only to be silenced? He flinched as the Nephilim raised its wings and moved them around and over him, caging him in. Adam squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the death blow as his heart slammed against his ribs. Instead, something warm curled around his wrist, tugging it away from the wound on his shoulder. Adam did not fight it. The Nephilim moved closer and with another arm, peeled back the layers of his clothes, and seemed to inspect the wound.

“ _This will hurt_ ,” a soft female voice whispered, a voice there and not there, shifting with the breeze. Adam came alive again and tried to move but two of her arms shot out and pinned him against the wall, and he stared into the cold mask, chest heaving. What was she going to do to him?

“ _Stay still so that I might heal you. It will hurt_ ,” she told him and he nodded weakly, feeling cold and tired. If she were not pinning him to the wall he might have slumped over. With one of her spare hands, she plucked a shimmering purple feather from one of her wings and pressed it into the wound. Adam passed out from the pain. 

He might have glimpsed the sky as he drifted in her arms but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did. Adam woke up alone but alive and healed. He looked around the forest clearing she had left him in. Nothing but Enochian symbols carved into the dirt around him, protecting him. Off in the distance, he could see the red glow of the burning remains of the town, distant howls and screams echoing from there.

Adam tugged his ruined shirt to the side and looked at what she had done. The wound was healed entirely and all that was left on his skin was the black outline of a feather.


	2. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young woman must face her fears

There was something big and powerful and in pain outside her little home. Yara could sense it and she was entirely alone there at the edge of the woods. She froze at the sound of a pained howl until it tapered off into an elk like keen.

She could sense its pain, something small, sharp, and numerous in it’s back. She pushed the covers back and felt the cool night air rush over her sweaty legs and she forced herself to sit up, heart hammering. Yara got out of bed and her too-big t-shirt brushed her thighs as she crept through her room and to the small hallway. The wind moaned softly outside and when she looked, there was only a thin filter of moonlight coming down through the clouds.

Yara opened the back door painfully slowly and cringed at the creak it made. Another cry of pain from the entity and hot tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted to help but didn’t want to get swept up in some sort of elaborate trap? Could the being be faking the injuries? Then again, those cries sounded real. A bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades.

Yara took that first hesitant step and began to make her way into the dark woods with only a bit of moonlight to guide her. There was a great rustling ahead of her, leaves crunching and cracking and when she glanced back at the house it looked impossibly small. Was she that far into the forest already? The moon pierced the forest here and when she looked up, she saw broken branches, the pale insides like splintered ribs. And there on the ground was the entity.

She saw a set of massive black wings and froze as her eyes drifted over the rest of them. The hands were tipped with huge black claws, each one almost as ling her fingers and a mop of shaggy black hair was flung over their face. She swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the hammering in her chest. She feared her legs might give out for all the shaking they were doing. 

Yara strained to see in the dark and saw they were more humanoid, perhaps closer to a male appearance? Something thick handled and shiny was sticking out of their back. Not an arrow then? A knife.

“I-I can… can you understand me?” she asked as she inched closer, saw more knives in their back. A weak nod. “Okay. I can help you. Just...please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered as she forced herself to get even closer. They lifted their head and she saw their eyes, human eyes, dark and lustrous as chips of tiger;s eye. Another nod.

Yara knelt and ignored the twigs and pebbles digging into her knees and inspected their feathered back. She saw three daggers.

“Pull them out. It will hurt but they need to be taken out now,” a man’s voice whispered, deep and rich like the notes of a cello. Gooseflesh rippled across her arms and legs at his voice and she nodded.

She wrapped her hands around the hilt, took a deep breath, and pulled! The entity went absolutely rigid but made no noise as she did her work and she put it aside. The tang of blood sang in the air and she reached for the other blade.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered once the second one was free and the entity whimpered, pressed his head into the ground. “Just one more.”

With the last blade removed all the tension seeped out of the entity and Yara saw the wounds shrink but not close. The blades seemed to be made out of crystal but it was hard to tell in the dark.

“How do you feel? Is there anything else I can do for you?” she whispered and he shook his head no. It happened quickly. Yara screamed as he surged up and wrapped his arms around her spindly frame! She instinctively tried to knee him in the groin but merely caught him in the stomach which he didn’t seem to notice. With several powerful wingbeats, they were in the air and Yara heard the sound of arrows whistling by ! She cried out as he deposited her at the back door of her house and turned in a flurry of feathers and heard men shouting! Yara scrambled to go inside and shut the door, locking it. She didn’t sleep that night but no one tried to knock or break in.

She felt terrible about him, trying to kick him when he’d only moved to shield her body with his. Granted she hadn’t known he was trying to do so at the exact moment. But two days had passed and all was incredibly quiet. Night fell once again and she pulled the cinnamon buns from the oven and took one when a tingle went down her spine. She paused and then went to look through the tiny kitchen window. It was dark but he was there. She knew it was him.

Yara went out the back door again and approached the woods, approached him slowly but she sensed nothing from him. Nothing to fear anyway, or at least she hoped. His shaggy black hair was swept away from his face and he gave a gentle smile when she came up to him.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” she said softly and he shook his head.

“You were only afraid. I can’t fault you for that,” he replied and she nodded.

“I would be in much worse shape if you hadn’t helped me and I am forever grateful little one.” She blushed deeply at that for reasons she could not discern at the moment. But she found herself unafraid of the forest and of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been stabbed I don't recommend taking the knife out.


	3. Demise of the Arrogant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young vampire decides to feed on a human forbidden to her and ends up biting off more than she can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I churned this out pretty quick

Lisandra first scented the young woman in a bookstore in the part of the city she usually ghosted about. Among the books and ink and old coffee smell, the aroma of her wafted over Lisandra and filled her senses. Her objective within the bookstore fell to the wayside as she stood there and greedily inhaled the scent of her. Lisandra shifted and was able to glimpse her between the rows of bookshelves, where she had her back to Lisandra. The instinct to feed slammed into her, to take the woman into her arms, crush her to her chest and sink her fangs into the fragrant flesh of her pretty neck. She could knock the cashier unconscious, break the cameras and take the young lady for herself.

Lisandra fought over her first instinct and imagined holding the woman to her chest and inhaling the smell of her skin and hair, to press her lips to her pulse points and feel the flutter of her veins, to honor the scent of her, memorize it and commit it to memory. Her maker had warned her of this blood, of this type of human with the ability to recognize preternatural creatures and see the unseen of this world. Vampires were forbidden from harming them in any way.

She moved the tiniest bit closer and caught another scent on her lingering in the way soap of shampoo might, the smell of another supernatural on her. Sandalwood and rain and decaying leaves. What was it? Had Lisandra been any younger she might have assumed it was human but she had just enough years under her belt-still considered a baby- and long lived maker to know it was something else. Again, slowly and inconspicuously, Lisandra started to move closer to her. She was short and thin with tawny skin and glossy black hair that fell in a floppy, short, boyish cut. Her nose twitched. The woman had dregs of ink on her and the faint tinge of acrylic paint as well as the astringent stench of nail polish.

Her nostrils flared as she watched the woman, the way a child might linger outside a bakery or a candy shop, and oh, she smelled like everything Lisandra had ever dreamed of eating when she was human. The woman smelled like sweet almonds and brown sugar and vanilla, warm and sugary. Underneath that, even more saccharine but not clashing with the other perfumes of her skin, was a thick cotton candy sweetness. It was her heart...and it began to hammer as she went stock still as her breath quickened. Oops...Lisandra had been sensed.

She tilted her head as the woman placed whatever book she’d picked up back on the shelf and turned to leave, stepping out of the cove formed by the shelves and briskly walking towards the exit. She never looked at Lisandra. 

“See you later, Robin,” the cashier said but her footsteps were hurried and the doorbell jingled as she opened it and fled. Robin. Lisandra found it rather fitting for someone of her stature. She was curious and her mouth watered, fangs itching to descend. No human had ever sensed her or known what she was until it was too late. She took off after her with long strides and burst out onto the street, her eyes easily picking her out in the crowd. Her day ring saved her the pain of burning up in the sun, keeping her weak, but the sun had dipped below the messy skyline, going to sleep and soon the night would begin her reign. The strength of the sun that drained her so was waning now and the new moon would cause a thick darkness to take over. 

Lisandra would not kill the woman or even grip her hard enough to leave a bruise but, she decided as she wove through the crowds, she was going to have a taste of her. No one would ever know and her maker was used to her being on her own for long stretches of time. She’d strike out on her own until any trace of her actions had faded and her maker and any other stuffy vampires would be none the wiser. Lights flickered on and made a neon jungle bathed Lisandra in jewel tones as she closed in on Robin and reasoned a little glamour would erase all memories of the incident. The wind groaned and wafted over them, throwing more of Robin’s decadent scent into her face, flicked her tongue out like a snake.

She was on top of Robin before she knew it, throwing a preternaturally strong arm around her neck like they were old friends, her cold hand clamping over her mouth as she pulled her close and steered her away. It was why she loved the city, where people turned a blind away and didn't want to get involved. Nobody seemed to care she was pulling Robin away from the crowd.  


Robin groaned into her hand and she felt warm tears spill over skin. She laughed to herself and pulled Robin away, her own shallow heartbeat picking up in excitement as she found the many dilapidated buildings in this shitty old city. Plenty of vampires probably fed on these special humans and got away with it, and besides, it wasn’t like Lisandra was going to seriously hurt her. She knew how to feed from a human and leave them alive and relatively unscathed.

Robin struggled against her and reached up to pry her hand away, weak by Lisandra’s measure, whimpering into her hand as Lisandra made off with her. It was where she came to think by herself or rest after feeding. It was dark and quiet and few humans came here to do drugs or get off with a hooker. She’d made sure of it and she felt it was her own way of honoring the blood she was about to drink, in a quiet secluded place.

Her maker had brought her up as she herself had been brought up, feeding from molesters and rapists and murderers, the scum of the earth, humans who deserved to die if their existence meant someone had to die at all. With these perverse humans, she and her maker went to bed with full bellies and clear consciences and a safer world for other humans. Lisandra wasn’t some sadistic vampire that played with her food, ramping up their hormones so they tasted the very best when they fed. No. She ate bad people and to drink from Robin wouldn’t be all that terrible. She deserved this one thing, didn’t she?

Lisandra held her squirming quarry and hummed to herself as she pressed her against the wall. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just stay still and stay quiet,” she whispered and Robin finally stopped struggling, instead trembling as she gathered up her thin wrists and pinned them above her head. Lisandra pressed her hip against Robin’s lower abdomen, pressing her into the wall without too much force. She paused and looked over the tears that had spilled onto her hand. She lapped them up and the taste of rose water spread over her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the taste of it. Ever since she’d been turned no liquid besides blood had any flavor or sparked anything besides disappointment. But this...this was something else, this woman was something else.

A quiet sob worked its way out of Robin as Lisandra ducked her head to her throat and dragged her nose along the curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of her, her pulse fluttering like a pinned moth.

“Please,” Robin finally said, “Please let me go, don’t bite me,” she begged, her voice cracking. Lisandra pulled her head back and looked over her, crystal tears sliding down her face as she stared into Robin’s dark eyes. She could see the dune like structures of pigment in Robin’s irises, fine as cocoa powder and the abyss of her pupils.

She focused on her and planted the seeds of her will as she stared into her eyes and spoke softly, calmly. 

“Just stay calm. You’re going to let me taste your blood and then you’ll forget this ever happened,” Lisandra pronounced and Robin’s eyes grew glassy and then sleepy...then she started struggling again, her heart hammering as Lisandra started. Her glamour hadn’t worked?

“Let me go!” Robin cried as Lisandra’s eyes went obsidian dark from lid to lid and her fangs punched through her gums. A thin trickle of blood came out of her nose. She sank her fangs into Robin’s shoulder, preferring the slower flow it would cause and moaned against her skin as sweetness burst into her mouth, letting go of her hands and clamping a hand over her mouth again. Robin shoved at her shoulders but she had an iron hold on her. Images of a small town flashed through her mind, sitting in a warm sunny flower field with someone beside her. She’d forgotten what the sun felt like on her skin!

A strange scream shattered the silence, like an elk call and a coyote’s howl rolled into one and Lisandra’s head shot up as a wave of iciness slammed into her. The wind moaned and the building they were in creaked and groaned. Another ear shattering screech and she smelled it on the wind, the scent of rain and damp leaves. Robin fell to the floor, dazed and bitten as Lisandra turned and let out a defensive hiss.

“You think you’re bad? We’re bigger and badder than you could ever be,” a woman’s voice said darkly and she whirled around, claws ready as she looked for whoever it was.

“Then show yourself!” She shouted. She had the blood of her maker flowing through her veins and she’d get out of this just fine.

“If you insist,” Another voice said and she was struck hard, her vision erupting into white as she flew across the room and crashed into the opposite wall! Lisandra lay there dazed with pain crawling around in her cheek and eye, reached up and felt that her cheekbone had caved in. 

The shape of the creature was tall and slender, with navy blue flesh, hard shoulders, and with the hollow of ribs as if it was a starving thing. Long black writhing hair swirled around the face that had only eyes. The eyes shimmered and shifted like cold opals in the sunlight and they narrowed as they fixed on Lisandra. She watched as Robin shifted into a sitting position, a hand over her bloodied neck, and the creature dropped into a crouch beside her, one great clawed hand extending and tenderly cupping her face. What the _fuck_.  


She launched herself at the shadowy woman with a scream when something else crashed into her pinned her to the floor, and she screamed as she saw the woman on top of her had a vertical slit along the length of her face. It split open, strings of saliva stretching and wobbling as she saw rows and rows of lamprey teeth. Lisandra howled and slashed her claws across the face, thick red black blood spilling out a second before it closed up. Something worked its way out of the writhing maw, a long wet red tongue that slithered out and lashed across her face.

“What the fuck are you?” she screamed as she stared into the mouth of this beast. The tongue retreated and the slit closed up and disappeared, features appearing in its place. The woman smirked.

“Who or what we are doesn’t matter. What matters is that you hurt her.”

Her maker felt her death but she never found the full remains of her progeny, only the scent of sweet blood along with sandalwood and petrichor in that dusty old building. She ran her nails along the floor where there was a great spray of dried blood and on the walls too. And there, two white points in the half dark on the ground amid the swirls and whorls painted in blood, the fangs of her fledgling, ripped from her head.

“Oh Lisandra, my child...what did you do?”


End file.
